


teeth

by hachimitsuto



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Future, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, crack with feelings, move aside fake dating it's fake friends time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21733360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hachimitsuto/pseuds/hachimitsuto
Summary: “Have you ever accidentally told the whole world that your enemy is your best friend?” Yangyang asks Kun that same night.Kun doesn’t even turn to look at Yangyang who was sitting on a stool across the counter when he asks back: “Is this about that thing you said today?”“Yes,” Yangyang admits. “I mean, not that he’s my enemy. I just don’t know why I said his name.”“Maybe it was your subconsciousness speaking, and it spoke your deepest desire, which is to be—”“Forget I said anything,” Yangyang huffs.
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Na Jaemin
Comments: 40
Kudos: 313
Collections: ’00 FIC FEST: ROUND ONE





	teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prompt #0074
> 
>   
> **please do note that this entire fic is purely fictional!**  
>   
>  everything that happens here is just a fragment my imagination! nct zero is my DREAM unit and i would like to speak it into existence  
> \+ also in this fic we don't talk about dream's future
> 
> \+ irrelevant to the plot but i just want everyone to know that the working title for this fic was “skrrt skrrt”   
>  \+ title from 5sos - thank you my local radio station for playing this song at the right time when i was looking for the perfect title

Yangyang adjusts his cap and looks into the camera. The red light is on, signalling that it’s recording. With his mask pulled down to his chin, he flashes his signature wide grin and greets the imaginary viewers. “Can you guess where I am now?” he asks.  
  
“We’re here to buy our album!” says Jaemin cheerfully as he casually slings an arm around Yangyang’s shoulders. “Everyone, it’s our first unit album! It’s also Yangyang’s first time buying an album in person.” He turns to Yangyang. Like him, Jaemin is also wearing a cap and a mask that’s dangling on his left ear. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“I’m very excited!” Yangyang answers without taking his eyes off of the camera. He sees themselves reflected inside the lens, two boys in identical getups and matching hair colours. His smile grows even bigger. “Should we go in now?”  
  
“And cut!” someone shouts behind the many cameras in front of them. They’ve moved the filming to an empty room that’s been decorated with their unit’s posters after purchasing the albums, and almost four hours since leaving their dorms this morning, they’re finally done.  
  
Leaning back against the chair, Yangyang exhales a sigh and pulls out his phone. There’s a flood of messages from the other boys, even a few from Sicheng and Ten. He’d feel more impressed that Ten still can find time to turn his face into mocking Memoji stickers to send to him in between his crazy tour schedules if he’s not too tired from pretending to be on friendly terms with someone he’s not actually friendly with all day.  
  
“What?” Jaemin raises his brows when they coincidentally glance at each other at the same time their eyes meet, all traces of a smile gone from his face.  
  
“Nothing,” Yangyang mumbles, returning his attention to his phone.   
  
Yes, you heard it right.  
  
Contrary to popular belief, a belief which Yangyang is partly responsible in seeding, he and Jaemin truthfully are not close friends. They’re hardly even friends, if Yangyang were to be completely honest. Yet here they are, pretending like they are like the professional idols they really are.  
  
If his life was a sitcom, this would be the point where there’s a record scratch sound and Yangyang turns to look straight into the camera and says: “Yes, it’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation”. Unfortunately, his life is no sitcom, and the cameras in front of him now have been turned off, but he looks at them anyway just for the sake of it, and sighs.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
So here’s the thing about being an idol:  
  
Everything comes out of your mouth will end up being recorded one way or another, intentionally or not. If not on camera, it’s typed out in the form of fanaccounts. And those fanaccounts will be shared and translated into more languages than he can speak (and Yangyang speaks many languages).  
  
It’s not something new that Yangyang learned just yesterday, yet the huge _ALWAYS WATCH WHAT YOU SAY_ reminder slash warning printed in all caps Arial font size 72 and plastered on the wall in the classroom where they had their media training and etiquette lesson which he had to see everyday failed to stop him from making what was now his biggest mistake in his career.  
  
By the time he realized it, the repost count on the original Weibo post has already exceeded the 1k mark, and he wouldn’t doubt that someone has already brought it to Twitter.  
  
“Have you ever accidentally told the whole world that your enemy is your best friend?” Yangyang asks Kun that same night.  
  
Kun, who is standing in front of the stove counting down the seconds until he can turn off the heat and remove his pot of instant noodles, doesn’t even turn to look at Yangyang who was sitting on a stool across the counter when he asks back: “Is this about that thing you said today?”  
  
“Yes,” Yangyang admits. There is no use in lying to Kun, especially not when Kun can see right through him anyway. “I mean, not that he’s my enemy. I just don’t know why I said his name.”  
  
“Maybe it was your subconsciousness speaking, and it spoke your deepest desire, which is to be—”  
  
“Forget I said anything,” Yangyang huffs, jumping out of the stool and stalks off to his room to glower at the same Weibo post again.  
  
Press rewind all the way back to June, when WayV had a fansign while promoting Take Off. press play on a when a particular fan asked Yangyang which Dream member he’s close with. The answer was easy, but for some reason, the signals from his brain got lost on their way to his tongue and rerouted on their own, and “Renjun” became “Jaemin”.  
  
It shouldn’t be a big deal that he should stress so much about that he’s actually considering retiring at the age of 18 not even six months after his debut. But Jaemin wasn’t just _not_ Yangyang’s close friend, he wasn’t a friend at all. Now Jaemin will think of him as a delusional weirdo who makes up stories about their nonexistent friendship.  
  
What makes things worse are the comments, which are 65% made up of a variation of crying emojis, 45% the combination of their names, and 20% asking for their interaction. Yangyang hates to disappoint others, but at this point he’s never going to _interact_ with Jaemin, whatever that actually means.  
  
“Don’t worry, this will just blow over. There’s gonna be a new gossip tomorrow and everyone will forget about this. Trust me!” Sicheng say to him later. It doesn’t sound that reassuring, if Yangyang were to be completely honest. But then again, Sicheng is the more experienced one, so he should know better, right?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Wrong.  
  
Fast forward to two months later. Yangyang finds himself in Seoul, or more specifically, in the meeting room on the 11th floor of SM building.  
  
Yangyang knows what being summoned to this room means. He’s been here once when they were announcing WayV’s debut, and apparently the number of times you’re called here equals to the number of times you’re debuting. That leads him to wonder how many times Mark has been here.  
  
Anyways, the point is, being here now with the other four boys from Dream only means one thing:  
  
“You’re all going to debut in a new unit,” says the staff sitting across from them, sounding bored and actually looking tired of her job. She proceeds to explain more details in the same monotonous voice while the other employee—probably an intern by how young and anxious she seems—notes down everything. They’re going to be called NCT ZERO, from their birth year, with a cool youth concept. Same age friends, all millennials with boyish charms, all rounded vocals and rap and visuals — it’ll be a hit. Her words, not his.  
  
“Cool!” is what Haechan says at the end of it, slinging an arm around Yangyang and flashing a grin that Yangyang is more used to see on the screen and in person. Dream is in the middle of comeback, and Haechan’s dark circles are more visible up close with less make up. “Now we can hang out more often.”  
  
“More often?” he asks. “But this is the first time we met?” It’s not a lie, really. Yangyang was almost starstruck when Haechan walked into the room earlier since he’s more used to seeing Haechan in the form of videos or photos on NCT’s Twitter account.  
  
Haechan’s face freezes for a moment, then he bursts into a fit of laughter. It’s as loud in person as Yangyang thought it would be whenever he watched Haechan on screen. “I didn’t know you were so funny!” he says, sounding genuinely surprised, then turns to Jeno and looks at him sadly. “I’m sorry to break this to you, but it seems that you’re still the only no jam in this room.”  
  
Jeno tackles him into a headlock, assisted by Renjun. The employees have already left a while ago, but they're sticking around because none of them wants to head back to the practice room or dorms just yet. Yangyang snorts. He’s seen and been directly involved all sorts of tomfoolery with his own members, it shouldn’t take long before he can get adjusted to this.  
  
“Oh, right.” Haechan turns back when they’re all standing in front of the elevator later after finally leaving the room. Yangyang looks up from the review of a new hotpot restaurant in Itaewon that Renjun is telling him about. “Aren’t you two close?”  
  
He doesn’t realize that Haechan is talking to him until he realizes everyone’s attention is on him. He raises his brows. “Me and Renjun?”  
  
“You and Jaemin.”  
  
He blinks. Once. Twice. Repeatedly. “Jaemin?”  
  
“Yeah. Didn’t you say you two are close? At a fansign or something. I didn’t know you even know each other.”  
  
If Yangyang was drinking bubble tea right now, he probably would have one pearl or two stuck in his throat and he would need to be rushed to the hospital, and that could possibly postpone the new unit debut or remove him from the lineup. It doesn’t sound that bad of an idea, although being dropped from the lineup just because he choked on a pearl does not sound very cool. Either way, he has no idea how on the flipping earth did Haechan hear about _that_ incident. He’s successfully erased it from his mind, and he’s forbidden everyone to bring it up. Nobody’s actually talking about it anymore.  
  
He glowers at Haechan, whose lips are curled into an impish smirk. “No—”  
  
“Of course we know each other,” Jaemin suddenly cuts in. His face doesn’t reveal any sort of emotion when Yangyang looks at him. Jeno is frowning at both of them. Yangyang is about to ask _‘we do?’_ when the elevator arrives.  
  
They get distracted by a _CHENJI’S BOOM BINGSU GIVEAWAY_ notice that the staff must have forgotten to remove when they get inside, so the topic is quickly forgotten. Yangyang turns his face towards Jaemin again and realizes that he’s pointedly avoiding his gaze.  
  
Weird kid. Yangyang shrugs and pushes the thought off his mind.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Yangyang doesn’t run into Jaemin again until he’s back again in Seoul to promote WayV’s new single. Jaemin’s hair is faded pink instead of blond, and he’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt that reads _THE DREAM SHOW,_ which reminds Yangyang, right, he must be busy preparing for the concert as well.  
  
“Hey,” Yangyang says. The rest of his members are already back in the dorms, and he’s here because he’s supposed to go through something related to the unit. “I heard the demo.”  
  
Jaemin raises his brows. “What demo?”  
  
“Our demo?” Yangyang is suddenly questioning himself when Jaemin keeps looking at him like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “The new unit?”  
  
The realization that finally dawns on Jaemin shows on his face, but other than that, he remains mostly expressionless. “Oh, that one.” He’s holding a tumbler, and Yangyang only notices now that he’s blocking the water dispenser. He steps aside so Jaemin can fill up his tumbler.  
  
“What did you think of it?”  
  
“The song?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
The song was more vibrant and energetic than he imagined, but less noise music like what NCT is generally known for and more modernized 90s boyband sound. Yangyang doesn’t dislike it.  
  
“It’s alright.” Jaemin shrugs, capping the tumbler after chugging down half the content.  
  
Yangyang is too distracted by the curt response and at the same time wondering _why is he not refilling it right away instead of making another trip later_ to notice that his phone is blaring with an incoming call from his manager until Jaemin points it out, mouth in a tight line, then turns away and walks off without another word as Yangyang presses it to his ear.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The thing is, Yangyang doesn’t hate Jaemin. He doesn’t even have a reason to dislike him in the first place, other than the way Jaemin only greets him half-heartedly every time they see each other or just pretends he’s not there.  
  
If anything, it’s probably Jaemin who has enough reasons to at least dislike him:  
  
1) See the “Jaemin and I are close friends” incident.  
  
2) “I honestly don’t know what his problem is,” Yangyang complains, snapping three Pepero sticks with his teeth angrily at once and holding his phone with his other hand.  
  
Miles away in their Beijing dorm, Kun and Dejun look far from sympathetic. “I think it’s you. He just hates you,” Dejun says without missing a beat in between sipping his tea. Yangyang hopes it spills on the new sweater Dejun’s wearing.  
  
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, but Jaemin’s a good kid. Really,” Kun tries but not really trying. “Look.” He leans forward towards the screen to show off his collection of selfies with Jaemin, who’s smiling broadly in all of the photos.  
  
Yangyang squints at his own phone screen to look at them. In all honesty, he thinks there’s something off-putting about Jaemin’s perfectly angled smile and pearly white teeth, like the creepy face you’d see staring at you in your nightmares. That’s just his opinion though, which he said out loud because it’s just his members, and Yangyang’s sitting in one of tiny vocal rooms all by himself. It’s not like anyone’s going to hear him. “Did you know he has this habit of staring? Sometimes it feels like he’s staring right into your soul. It’s really creepy.”  
  
As soon as he says that, he feels this eerie feeling that someone is staring at him. “Uh, Yangyang,” Kun suddenly looks concerned. “Behind you.”  
  
Yangyang freezes, then turns around in a thriller movie’s slow motion manner and finds Jaemin standing at the door with his arms crossed, half-smirking and his eyes shining despite the dim lighting. Definitely a nightmare material, no matter how good he looks in his all black getup.  
  
“How long have you been standing there?” Yangyang questions, sounding more defensive than intended.  
  
“A while,” Jaemin says nonchalantly. “What, were you talking about me?”  
  
Yangyang tries to feign innocence, but remembers too late that he was not speaking in Mandarin since he needs to practice his Korean so Jaemin no doubt heard and understood what he said about him. Yangyang turns to his phone for help, but the screen is now black after Dejun hung up. There has never been a worst betrayal.  
  
“We’re going to start our practice now,” Jaemin adds _after a freaking scoff_ , then walks away.  
  
What could be worse than making up a story about being best friends with you? It’s walking into that same person talking shit about you. Well, if his chances to eventually become friends with Jaemin—not that Yangyang was hoping, definitely not—were as fat as a Pepero stick, they are nonexistent now.  
  
3) Maybe SM think they are hilarious people, because they purposely keep pairing the two of them up for both MV filming and album jacket shooting. It’s either they have heard about The Incident or it’s completely coincidental, but either way it’s not making anyone happy, except maybe Haechan, who’s always cackling at them behind the monitor.  
  
“Come on, you two are supposed to be good friends,” he says to Yangyang. Jaemin immediately walked off the set in the opposite direction as soon the director yelled OK and never looked his way.  
  
Haechan didn’t even take two days to find out the truth. Not that Yangyang planned to hide it forever, but the way Haechan collapsed to the floor laughing and continuously made fun of them made Yangyang wish the floor collapsed along with him. “If your idea of good friends is sitting as far away from each other in the same room and pretending the other doesn’t exist, then we’re total BFFs,” he replies, adding to Haechan’s amusement.  
  
“Don’t worry, _da ge_ is here to keep this lost lamb company,” Haechan says with mirth, then heads off to the set for his turn not even five seconds later, so unbelievably true to his words.  
  
It's not even the worst part yet. Yangyang remembers belatedly that they’re supposed to film the behind scenes one of the staff hands him a camera. While swallowing the last of his pride, he begrudgingly goes to Jaemin, who stares at him suspiciously before spotting the camera, and starts to animatedly _play around_ with him.  
  
At this point, Yangyang doesn’t even care if they don’t hit the roof on Melon or grab a win on music shows, but he definitely deserves a freaking Oscar for all the acting he’s doing.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next weeks pass by at the speed of Jaemin emptying his coffee cup every morning and asking for another. Yangyang gets increasingly anxious each day—by both the approaching debut and Jaemin’s caffeine consumption. He wishes there’s a pause button so he can put everything to a stop for a while and go for a toilet break.  
  
Unfortunately, there’s none, so he excuses himself from the dance practice for an actual toilet break.  
  
Retrospectively speaking, maybe he should have had a bubble tea with him that day and choked on a pearl, however uncool that would be. If he did, he wouldn’t be sitting in the infamous pink walled room inside SM’s cafeteria on New Year’s day with the rest of them getting ready for their first VLive together.  
  
Their teaser was finally released last night the moment the clock struck midnight and had more retweets than he could imagine. Yangyang taps his foot repeatedly under the table while staring down at his phone screen. There’s less than 5 minutes more until they’re supposed to start.  
  
It’s not doing a live that makes him fidgety — he’s done plenty of lives before — it’s the fear of mispronouncing or saying the wrong word. No amount of encouragement from Renjun can taper off Yangyang’s worries that the unit might end up being witch hunted just because of him.  
  
“Here,” Jaemin says, setting an Americano on the table before taking a seat next to him.  
  
Yangyang looks at him warily. “Did you poison this?” It’s meant to be a joke, but the way Jaemin flicks his eyes towards him tells Yangyang he probably didn’t take it as so. Yangyang says nothing else and picks the drink up.  
  
To his relief, the VLive goes smoothly without a hitch or any mistake. Well, except for when Yangyang accidentally called Jaemin hyungnim when he just wanted to say his Chinese name, which caused Jaemin to stop functioning for two seconds and Haechan crowed so loud he almost got told off by the staff.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Press pause here.  
  
Here’s another thing about being an idol: More often than not, fans will believe what they want to believe.  
  
In this case, they are 100% convinced that Yangyang and Jaemin are undoubtedly best friends. There’s even a post on Pann complete with proofs to support the statement. Ten is unnecessarily kind enough to share the link to their group chat even though it should be at least 3AM in the States right now.  
  


> **[enter-talk] NCT’s cute same age friends**  
>    
>  Did you guys know about NCT Dream’s Jaemin and WayV’s Yangyang friendship?  
>    
>  [photo][photo]  
>    
>  Last year, Yangyang mentioned that he’s close with Jaemin. I thought it was totally random.  
>    
>  [photo]  
>    
>  When SM announced NCT ZERO’s lineup, I remembered that fanaccount and became excited. They did a VLive the other day and these two were so f****** cute ㅠㅠ  
>    
>  [gif]  
>  [gif]  
>  [gif]  
>    
>  Yangyang sat on the farthest left, so Jaemin always held the iPad closer so Yangyang could read the comments ㅠㅠㅠㅠ Jaemin even pushed his chair back so Yangyang wouldn’t be excluded from the conversations.  
>    
>  [gif]  
>    
>  When Yangyang did his self introduction in Korean, everyone was cheering but Jaemin was smiling from ear to ear. I thought his face would split into two.  
>    
>  [gif]  
>    
>  Their visual combination is powerful too. Look at their teasers.  
>    
>  [photo]  
>  [photo]  
>    
>  They also have identical smiles ㅎ Cute Nana and Yangyang~  
>    
>  [gif]  
>  [gif]  
>  [gif]  
>  [gif]  
>    
>  I’m supporting their friendship~~

  
  
_Please kill me_ , Yangyang types in response, and follows it with a vomiting sticker. Not three seconds later, he gets a reply from Sicheng in English: _i’m supporting your friendship~~~_ _哈哈哈哈哈_  
  
He really should’ve choked on bubble tea that day.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s probably wrong for him to be surprised, but NCT ZERO did so much better than anyone actually expected. The staff who briefed them during their first meeting was right after all — they’re a hit.  
  
They grab their first win a week after their debut on The Show. Everything happens too quickly, and Yangyang stares at the fluttering confetti in a daze until Jeno passes him the mic. His brain lags a second before realizing that he’s supposed to say something, and when he finally opens his mouth to speak, there’s an imaginary tapioca pearl stuck in his throat. _YOU ARE MONTHS TOO LATE_ , his brain shouts.  
  
Of course, he knows that crying during your first win is not even a bad thing and there are worse things that can happen, but this is the kind of sappy shit Kun would do.  
  
There’s a comforting hand on his shoulder, so Yangyang looks up. It’s Jaemin. “I’m not crying,” Yangyang says with a cracked voice, accidentally into the mic. Both Haechan and Renjun crack up behind him, and his turn ends just like that.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Things go south sooner than he thinks.  
  
It’s 4 in the morning when they all arrive at the salon. Barely two hours ago, they were still holed up in the practice room for the final run throughs of the choreography for a special stage later. Even Haechan who’s always so chirpy regardless of time can barely open his eyes.  
  
They’re split into two separate vans to get to the KBS building in Yeoui-do. Quite a distance from the salon. Yangyang is the first one to have his makeup done, so he heads to the van first so he can get some shut-eye. He’s already sound asleep when the door slides open a bit too loudly, jerking him awake. Then he sees Jaemin standing there. Jaemin sees him too. Closes the door again. Thirty seconds later, Renjun appears and climbs inside.  
  
“Where did Jaemin go?” asks Yangyang as Renjun pulls the door close.  
  
Their manager is already in putting the gear in reverse, and their stylist is sitting in the backseat behind them. No matter how close the relationship between an idol group and their staff in charge can be, there are still things that should be kept a secret. Renjun looks at them cautiously from the corners of his eyes before answering: “Uh, he went to the other van.”  
  
Yangyang doesn’t ask. It’s too early in the morning to be annoyed, and he doesn’t want to put Renjun in a tough spot. He doesn’t confront Jaemin either, not even when they’re rehearsing for the third time and Jaemin refuses to do the usual high five during joint rap part after the second verse, much less meet Yangyang’s eyes.  
  
Everyone’s running low on sleep and low on patience, and Yangyang’s not excluded. He finally corners Jaemin in the restroom later after their turn was over. A more senior boy group is up on stage, and he can hear their song all the way here while checking if there are any occupied stalls.  
  
“What the hell is your problem?” he spats, done with all the basic manners and politeness that by now are clearly undeserved.  
  
Jaemin is splashing water on his face at the sink and doesn’t look up even after he’s pulled some paper towels and dried his face. They still have to go on the stage again for the winner announcement. Hyejoo-noona will not be happy to redo the makeup.  
  
Well, she’s not the only one. Yangyang folds his arms across his chest and takes steps forward towards Jaemin, narrowing his eyes at him. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”  
  
“My problem?” Jaemin raises his brows, finally turning around. “I don’t have any.”  
  
“Yes, you do. You have a problem with me, and that’s why you’ve been acting weird all day today. You acted like I just didn’t exist—not just today, you’ve disregarded me the entire time,” Yangyang bursts out, like a balloon that blows up after reaching its limit. “Are you mad at me about something, or—is it because of what I said back then? If that’s what, then okay, I admit it was my fault. But did you really have to drag it out for this long?”  
  
Something unrecognizable shatters across Jaemin’s face. His lips part as though he wants to say something, but no words come out, and he just continues to stare at Yangyang, jaw clenched, brows knitted together.  
  
“Look, I know we don’t actually have to be best friends, but can’t we just be friendly? I mean, not just in front of the camera. At least, like, until this is over. It’ll be over after this week. I’ll be back in China and you don’t have to see my face again.”  
  
Yangyang doesn’t realize how angry he’s been until he finishes talking and feels the weight of pent-up frustrations and unsaid words inside all this time disappear. He doesn’t wait for Jaemin to find his words and just turns around to leave.  
  
Jaemin doesn’t return to their waiting room until when there’s only a minute left until they need to be on standby, his makeup redone and hair restyled. On the stage, they stand as far away from each other as being a five-member group allows them to.  
  
“You know,” Renjun begins later when they’re back inside the van, in Mandarin. “I don’t want you to think that I’m taking sides, but Jaemin has things going on right now, and he’s not—” A pause. “He doesn’t hate you.”  
  
“Well, doesn’t matter,” Yangyang says, exhausted. “Right now I do.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jaemin doesn’t speak a word to him in the remaining two days of promotions.  
  
There’s another scheduled group VLive on Sunday night. Yangyang figures since it’s his last night, he’d prepare something.  
  
His manager enters the practice room where they’re doing the live 10 minutes into the broadcast bringing everyone drinks as Yangyang has asked. “Tea for Renjunnie, iced coffee for Jeno and Haechannie, strawberry milkshake for Jaeminnie and me,” he says, voice dripping with sincerity that he never had.  
  
Jaemin freezes. Yangyang knows for a fact that Jaemin hates milk and hates strawberry flavoured things. Everyone knows it too.  
  
Yangyang grins. “Jaeminnie likes strawberry milk now,” he says, looking directly at Jaemin who holds his gaze for a while like a silent challenge.   
  
“As expected, our Yangyangie is the best,” Haechan says with impeccable timing, laughing and slinging an arm around him in a half-hug and happily chugging his coffee.  
  
When the live broadcast is over and all the staff have cleared off, Jaemin grabs Yangyang’s wrist just as he’s about to leave the room. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Yangyang how Jeno eyes them carefully before hauling the others out. He shrugs Jaemin’s grip off. “What do you want now?”  
  
“You asked me what my problem was, but I should be the one asking the question. What is your problem?” Jaemin snaps. “If you really... dislike me that much, then you shouldn’t have done all that.”  
  
“Done what? The milkshake?”  
  
“Act all friendly with me.”  
  
“Were you not the one who started it first?” Yangyang retorts sharply. “Okay, you know what? I know I asked you if we can’t just be friendly, like... be on good terms, but that doesn’t matter now. If you want to say things about me, rant about me to your best friend or whoever, go ahead. I don’t care. The promotion’s over.”  
  
Jaemin reels back and stares at Yangyang like he’s been struck by the daggers that came out of Yangyang’s mouth. Yangyang doesn’t wait around to find out if Jaemin has anything more to say, stalking out of the practice room, down the hallway all the way to the elevators without looking back.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As soon as the call connects, the loud synthetic pop blaring from the speakers in the background travels thousands of miles across the static and floods into Yangyang room. Yangyang has to pull his phone away a bit. “What the hell? Where on earth are you?”  
  
The camera on the other end shakes before Haechan’s face fill up the frame, too close for comfort, before it splits with his wide grin. “Liu Yangyang!” he shouts, too loud for 8 in the morning.  
  
“Can’t you at least go somewhere quieter? Isn’t this common courtesy when calling someone, especially at this hour?” Yangyang complains, struggling to bring himself to sit up.  
  
There’s already a migraine building up in Yangyang’s head, and it hasn’t even been 10 minutes since he woke up. “It’s 11 pm right here!” Haechan yells again, even though the noise has drowned out after he heads to what appears to be a kitchen.  
  
“Wait, are you drunk? Holy shit, are you drunk-dialling me?”  
  
“Who’s drunk-dialling you?” Yukhei interrupts, throwing the door open with too much force as always. He strides into the room and plops down onto the bed after barely five steps. If that’s not rude enough, he also steals Yangyang’s phone to have a full view of the screen. His face lights up as soon as he recognizes who it is.  
  
“Oh? If it’s not our number one singer on Billboard 200?” Haechan says excitedly before he lowers his own pitch to imitate Yukhei’s deep voice. “ _How we get down~_ ”  
  
“That’s already old news.” Yukhei says bashfully. “Wait, are you drunk, Donghyuck?”  
  
“Who’s Donghyuck?” Yangyang frowns.  
  
“That’s me, stupid!” Haechan yells, suddenly sober. “Oh my god, we’re in a unit together and you never actually knew my real name?”  
  
Yangyang shrugs nonchalantly while Yukhei is laughing hysterically next to him, causing the whole bed to shake. He pushes him off to the floor. “The contract doesn’t say that I’m obliged to know every single member’s real name, birth date, birth place—I don’t know… favourite colour?—every single thing, does it?” he says pointedly. “Where are you?”  
  
“Amuhrica,” Haechan slurs in an exaggerated accent. “Don’t worry, we’re just in our Airbnb, not a party or anything. We’re not even drunk. Doyoung hyung just turned up the speaker to the max and we’re all pretending to be shitfaced at a club because we’re depressed about performing at tomorrow’s event with the presi—wait, you’re not recording this conversation, are you?” He quirks his eyebrow.  
  
“I am now,” Yangyang says, rolling his eyes. “Would you like to explain to me why you’re not-drunk-dialling me?”  
  
“Why are you so mean to me, Yangyang?” Haechan pouts. “You never even called after you went back to China! Didn’t you miss me, you little sheep? Didn’t you miss—”  
  
“I swear to God—”  
  
He starts laughing for a good minute. “I just wanted to ask if you’ve heard the news.”  
  
“What news?”  
  
“Nice!” he fist pumps in excitement. “I wanted to be the one to tell you. We’re having a comeback.”  
  
“Who’s we?”  
  
Haechan holds his palm out facing the camera, all fingers spread out. Then he folds two fingers, and then the rest of them one by one like a countdown, so painstakingly slow, until all of them are closed into a fist. It takes Yangyang a while before he finally gets it.  
  
“No way.”  
  
“That’s not all.” Haechan flashes a smirk. “We’re gonna have our own reality show. 5 episodes in total. All unscripted. And it’s not just a series on YouTube. It’ll be aired on TV.”  
  
Yangyang drops his phone and groans into his pillow.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Okay, look," Yangyang begins. “I understand that you’re not having the best day of your life, and I know that you just want this to be over as much as I do. But rationally speaking, our future seems bleak at this point. Let’s just be nice and not make this any harder for the both of us.”  
  
Jaemin shoves the entire eomuk into his mouth and looks the other way. Yangyang would have been amazed by the fact it the whole thing fits in there, and the fact that Jaemin just took it out from the hot broth. His mouth must be incredibly heat resistant. There’s also the fact that even with his face stuffed like this, Jaemin doesn’t look ugly.  
  
“Fine,” Jaemin replies curtly after he’s chewed down and swallowed everything a minute later.  
  
They’re having a short break while the staff change the tapes and batteries, but even without the cameras rolling, they can’t let their guards down. Particularly not when they’re in a public place surrounded by people they know better not to trust so easily.  
  
The idea for the first episode of their reality show goes like this:  
  
The Korean members; namely Jeno, Haechan and Jaemin, will take the non-Korean members; namely Renjun and Yangyang, around the country to experience South Korea like a local, and they will have to complete several missions along the way.  
  
Here’s the catch: they are split into two teams.  
  
Very unsurprisingly, Jaemin and Yangyang are teamed together. It was decided by random balloting, but Yangyang is pretty sure the whole thing was rigged. It’s extremely unimaginative and the lack of creativity almost made him want to throw himself under a three tonne truck.  
  
“We will resume filming in three minutes!” the FD tells them, and they both flash a smile at the same time.  
  
The worst part isn’t being stuck with Jaemin — it’s being stuck with Jaemin _the whole day_. Ever since what happened that night, they have not exchanged a single word to each other. Not even when they met again to discuss their comeback plans and schedules a week ago, or when they ran through the lyrics for their rap and Jeno had to go back and forth between them to work things out. No amount of acting lessons—not that he’s taken any—could prepare Yangyang for this day.  
  
“I don’t know how I’m going to go through the next two months,” Yangyang complains to Renjun later over hotpot.  
  
Between preparing for the comeback, Renjun recording his radio show and other schedules, they barely get time to breathe, let alone go out to visit Renjun’s favourite restaurant. The owner lady almost cried when she saw that his cheek fats have disappeared. “You know, it was funny at first, but it’s getting ridiculous now,” Renjun tells him. “Do you know that you’re being more childish than Jisung and Chenle are whenever they quarrel? How long are you two gonna keep this up?”  
  
Yangyang keeps his eyes on the simmering soup. “I’m not being childish. He is.”   
  
“Both of you are,” Renjun snaps, blocking Yangyang’s chopsticks when he tries to get another slice of meat. “I don’t care if you go for each other’s throat, have a duel with real swords, or if you want to steal our idea and fight it out on the rooftop, or even pounce on each other in the—never mind. My point is, whatever it is, can you settle this pointless war soon?”  
  
Yangyang successfully sneaks his chopsticks when Renjun isn’t paying attention and grabs two slices at once. “We’ll see,” he says in reply. “I’m open for truce anytime. It’s him who keeps getting on my nerves.”  
  
“Do you really think he hates you?” Renjun asks.  
  
“He keeps blowing hot and cold every five seconds. How else would you explain that attitude, then?”  
  
“You don’t know Jaemin, Yangyang,” Renjun says with a sigh, almost sounding defeated. But he leaves it at that and Yangyang doesn’t bother to ask more.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
In the end, what leads up to their worst fight is not another case of Yangyang buying Jaemin iced latte on purpose, or Jaemin posting a funny photo of Yangyang on their Twitter account after posting a nice photo of everyone else, or even the freestyle rap they did at the filming of Idol Room which quickly escalated and turned into a diss rap battle, and the others had to step in to stop them as soon as Yangyang started rapping in _German_.  
  
What it comes down to is this:  
  
Two weeks before the comeback, Yangyang twists his ankle.  
  
It’s not a huge injury, but the doctor tells him in a passive aggressive way to get as much rest as possible and to not put any pressure on his ankle. In other words, he needs to sit out from all schedules.  
  
In perspective, it’s not the end of the world. He’s just going to miss one Skechers event in Wuhan with Yukhei and Hendery, one festival in Gumi with ZERO, the dance and game corners in We K-POP, and practices. When he’s not watching the rest of his members go through the choreography from the couch or watching random YouTube videos until he falls asleep in his room, Yangyang calls Dejun endlessly even when he has nothing to say just to annoy him. He doesn’t think it’s a big loss on his part.  
  
Well, except when he wakes up one evening to an empty dorm, and remembers belatedly that no one’s around. Haechan is away with 127, Renjun recording three nights’ worth of his radio program, Jeno filling in as a special DJ for Idol Radio.  
  
Which leaves:  
  
“You awake?” says Jaemin, looking up from a simmering pot on the stove. The smallest of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. His damp hazelnut hair appears a shade darker underneath the kitchen lights. “Do you want some abalone porridge? Jeno’s parents sent the abalones all the way from Jeju-do.”  
  
“Jeno is from Jeju-do?” Yangyang frowns. He just looked up everyone’s profiles on Naver the other day, and Jeno’s doesn’t have Jeju-do written anywhere.  
  
“No, but his parents were there last week,” Jaemin replies. He’s taken a bowl from the rack and filled three quarters of it with the porridge before setting it on the breakfast counter in front of Yangyang even without Yangyang asking.  
  
Putting his crutch aside, Yangyang takes a seat and studies the bowl. He’s never had abalone porridge before.  
  
“Don’t worry. I didn’t poison it while you were asleep. Also the dorm lady made it, not me,” Jaemin tells him. His eyes are unreadable when Yangyang meets his gaze.  
  
“I wasn’t suspecting,” Yangyang says faintly, then picks up the spoon and starts digging in. It’s not until a while later that he realizes Jaemin is still standing there staring at him. He knows Jaemin has a habit of staring, but he didn’t think it’d be this direct. “What are you looking at?”  
  
“You,” Jaemin answers easily, hands in the pockets of his trainer shorts.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I don’t get you,” he says. “The things you say, things you do, things you… think about. Why your laugh sounds different with different people. Why you would rather set up a camp in the living room than move into my room when the heater in your room broke down last time, but never mind when Donghyuck crashes in and sleeps in your bed. I don’t get you at all.”   
  
“Why do you need to do that?” Yangyang asks, brows knitting together. But he’s not really looking for an answer. “It’s you who I don’t understand. The way you switch personalities in a split second. Paying close attention but keeping me at arm’s length at the same time like you can’t make up your mind.”  
  
He watches the clench of Jaemin’s jaw, his lips pressed into a thin line, gaze boring into his soul. Outside, the sun has been swallowed by the horizon, and the lamps in this kitchen are not enough to illuminate the whole house. Jaemin keeps silent.  
  
Yangyang sets down his spoon. “Look, if you really hate my guts, you can just tell me straight to my face.”  
  
“You think that I hate you?” Jaemin asks slowly.  
  
“Why is everyone asking me the same question,” Yangyang mutters, irritated.  
  
“Maybe because everyone knows something you don’t.”  
  
“And that is?”  
  
Jaemin tips his head to the side, then the same enticing grin that he always wears on camera returns to his lips, glint in his eyes. A complete change in character. “Wouldn’t be fun if I told you myself, right?”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?” Yangyang seethes to Haechan, who doesn’t even attempt to hide his yawn.  
  
His doctor had declared him fully recovered and granted him permission to join the rest in Boryeong to film the final episode of their variety show, although he still wasn’t fit enough for outdoor activities that might have been planned.  
  
Haechan just came back from Indonesia last night, and Yangyang would let him catch up on sleep if he hadn’t crashed in and snored so loud in Yangyang’s ears, keeping _him_ awake. “What is it that everyone knows that I don’t?” he continues, ignoring Haechan’s third yawn in the last minute.  
  
“I don’t know,” says Haechan lazily, closing his eyes. “Will you let me sleep now?”  
  
The filming will resume by dinner time, so they’re allowed two hours of free time. While Renjun headed out with Jeno and Jaemin to check out the sea, Yangyang and Haechan chose to stay in. The cool air-conditioning in the bedroom of the bungalow where they’ll be spending the night makes it even harder to stay awake.  
  
“You’re useless,” Yangyang groans, kicking his foot.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Yangyang’s not sure when exactly did he drift to sleep himself, but when he wakes up an hour later, Haechan is already gone.  
  
“There you are.” Jeno appears from behind him when he’s heading to the front door. Presumably from the toilet or kitchen, since the wet marks on his jeans are shaped like hand prints, like he decided to just dry his hands on his thighs. He flashes a smile at Yangyang, eyes shaped like crescent moons.  
  
In all honesty, Yangyang hasn’t had many opportunities to have a proper conversation with Jeno. At least not one that doesn’t include Yangyang grunting angry complaints about Jaemin, and Jeno just patiently and quietly listens until he’s finished. As Jaemin’s best friend, Jeno is obliged to take Jaemin’s side. Yangyang understands that perfectly well.  
  
“Hey, I have a hypothetical question for you,” he says to Jeno, who blinks at him. “Let’s say you’ve got this dude you can’t stand—”  
  
Jeno interrupts before Yangyang can finish asking. “Uh, is this about Jaemin?”  
  
Yangyang is silent. Jeno blinks again. “What makes you think this is about him?”  
  
“You talk about him all the time,” Jeno says, deadpan.  
  
“No I don’t.”  
  
“Then who is this about?”  
  
“Um. Kun hyung,” says Yangyang, then grumbles when Jeno continues to stare at him, admitting defeat. “Okay. It is about Jaemin. What about it?” he huffs, and somehow his misery is funny to Jeno.  
  
“What did he do this time?”  
  
“He just said something weird and confusing,” Yangyang says, shrugging.  
  
Jeno’s face distorts. “Like what?”  
  
“Like… I’m not getting something that’s been laid out right in front of me, but I have no idea what it is. Like he’s playing a word puzzle with me except he never gave me any clues to begin with. I don’t understand him at all.”  
  
The look Jeno is giving him is not like Haechan’s that’s conniving and full of mirth, or like Renjun’s sympathetic gaze. Jeno reaches for Yangyang’s shoulder and gives him a gentle squeeze. “You know, Yangyang, Jaemin’s the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. If you can’t read him, maybe it’s because you’re not trying hard enough.”  
  
His words confuse Yangyang even more, but unfortunately Jeno offers nothing else and leaves Yangyang to his thoughts.  
  
Yangyang can’t stop thinking about it even as they sit around a mini bonfire later that night to film the closing scene. Each of them is supposed to read out the letter that they’ve written for one another—a classic idol group reality show thing meant to induce tears.  
  
No one’s actually crying though, especially not after Jeno’s two-sentence letter that left all of them speechless.  
  
“Without all of you, I’m zero. Skrrt skrrt.”  
  
“Oh my god,” says Haechan after a minute passed in complete silence. “Jeno, you’ve really outdone yourself. This is a whole new level of No Jam.”  
  
In between high-fiving Jeno and laughing with Renjun, Yangyang’s eyes find Jaemin, sitting on the other end and grinning at his best friend.  
  
Jaemin’s letter was as cringey as anyone would expect from him, but straightforward and heartfelt at the same time. Yangyang’s mind rewinds Jeno’s words. _Jaemin’s the type to wear his heart on his sleeve_. What is it about Jaemin that he’s failed to read?  
  
“Earth to Yangyang?” Renjun’s voice floats into his ears. Yangyang snaps out of his trance and turns to Renjun. “Where did you go in your head?”  
  
“Nowhere,” he replies, trying an easy smile.  
  
“Let’s head to bed,” says Haechan, now on his feet facing him with an arm around Jeno’s shoulder. Jaemin is standing behind them, a silent observer. “Oh. In your case, it’s not a bed.”  
  
Yangyang groans. He’d came in last place in the game they played earlier that determined their sleeping places, which means he’d be sleeping out in the yard on the traditional wooden platform with just a pillow and a mosquito net. “It’s totally rigged. I know you cheated,” he says to Haechan.  
  
“Stop suspecting everything is rigged! Who even taught you the word?” laughs Haechan. Yangyang huffs at him in annoyance, then flicks his gaze to Jaemin who’s still looking at him. Yangyang looks away.  
  
“You know,” Jaemin says later when Yangyang comes out from the bathroom after washing up. “You can sleep in my tent. I don’t think the staff will mind.”  
  
Jaemin came in fourth in the game, which won him a small tent also in the yard not far away from Yangyang’s sleeping spot. Honestly, there’s a very tiny difference between the two, if you ask Yangyang.  
  
He makes a face. “Why would I want to sleep with you?”  
  
There’s a loud choking sound from behind him. Yangyang turns around and finds Jeno, who has a toothbrush in his mouth and is looking at them with wide eyes like he’s never been more scandalized in his life. “Carry on. I heard nothing,” he says quickly and leaves.  
  
Yangyang turns back to Jaemin, unaffected. “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks,” he mutters, then makes a move to leave. Except Jaemin tugs his arm and stops him from going anywhere. “What?”  
  
“You keep asking if I hated you, so let me ask you the same question. Do you hate me?”  
  
“Why do you need to know?”  
  
“Because I don’t,” Jaemin says. “And for the record, I’ve never said anything. You just assumed that on your own.”  
  
Yangyang’s brows knit together. It’s true, now that he’s raking through each and every memory searching for that one definite evidence, he’s never heard the word came out from Jaemin’s mouth.  
  
“I don’t know where did you get the idea, but I’ve never even disliked you. Okay, I admit that there were times when I riled you up on purpose, but nothing was out of malice or… hate. I was just tired.” Jaemin pauses to look at him. Waits until Yangyang returns the gaze.   
  
“Tired of what?”  
  
“Hoping,” he answers, sounding exhausted. “I’ll ask you again, and I hope you will answer me honestly,” he speaks again with determination. “Do you hate me?”  
  
Yangyang searches for the right thing to say, but words die in his throat before he can get any of them out. He’s too confused, and too distracted by the realization that he’s been wrong the entire time and _Jaemin doesn’t hate him_.   
  
But unfortunately, Jaemin seems to take his silence as a definite answer.  
  
A look of disappointment flickers across Jaemin’s face. His eyes are dark from behind his lashes, and his mouth stretch into a tiny smile that somehow punches Yangyang in the guts. “I get it,” he says slowly, shoulders dropping like he’s just exhaled a long sigh. “Good night, Yangyang.”  
  
And then Jaemin just walks away.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“For someone who can speak five languages, you’re a lot dumber than I expected, Yangyang,” says Haechan mercilessly. “Of all things, how can you actually misinterpret feelings?”  
  
Yangyang uncrosses his legs and aims for the same foot that he kicked that afternoon, but this time Haechan manages to evade it. He sticks his tongue out at Yangyang, who then aims a punch on his shoulder and succeeds.  
  
“Stop trying to inflict injuries on me!”  
  
“Stop saying things that don’t make sense!” Yangyang retorts, then leans back on the bed. The air-conditioned room they napped in earlier is now Jeno’s, and Haechan’s room now only comes with an electric fan that makes more noise than him. Renjun has given up trying to play a counselor and is sound asleep peacefully in the living room wearing earplugs and an eye mask, so now Yangyang has only Haechan to rely on. Except Haechan is never reliable. “How else am I supposed to interpret his weird behaviour and? Also, may I remind you, you haven’t been very helpful either,” he adds.  
  
“Yangyang, Jaemin basically already handed you all the pieces of this puzzle. You’re not even supposed to need my help,” Haechan tells him while reaching for another piece of chicken from the box which he secretly ordered after wrapping up the filming earlier. “I can’t believe Na Jaemin would harbour a crush on someone with a pea for a brain like you.”  
  
Yangyang blinks at him. “ _Who_ harbours a _what_ on _whomst_?”  
  
Haechan drops his half-eaten drumstick. “Holy shit, are you for real?” he asks, astounded. “No offense, Yangyang, but are you dense or are you stupid?”  
  
“An explanation would be appreciated right now,” Yangyang replies impatiently, one insult away from hurling himself at Haechan to get him in a headlock.  
  
Haechan grabs the nearest pillow and buries his face in it as he lets out the longest groan. “Oh dear God, please bestow me with all the patience in the world to guide your lost little lamb,” he murmurs under his breath before lifting his head back up again to look at Yangyang. “The fact that Jaemin never did try to sabotage you on purpose, at least not unless you sabotaged him first? Or the fact that he’s been doing nothing but looking out for you even when the camera’s not rolling?”  
  
“Looking out for your bandmates should be a basic manner, excuse you.”  
  
“Yangyang,” Haechan begins slowly, like he’s explaining something to a little child. “Na Jaemin has been head over heels for you for years.”  
  
“ _What_.”  
  
“He told—well, not me, he told Jeno and Jeno told me—that you two and Jungwoo hyung hung out together once some years back. Do you not remember?”  
  
Actually, Yangyang does remember. It’s a memory so blurry he almost can’t tell if it’s real or if it’s something his brain made up, but now that Haechan has brought it up, it’s as though everything finally clicks into place. “Fuck,” he says, almost ceremoniously. “Jaemin was that cute boy.”  
  
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m witnessing two idiots in love,” Haechan grumbles, lying down on the floor. “I’m not paid enough for this shit.”  
  
“What should I do now?” Yangyang asks.  
  
Haechan actually looks like he’s about to cry. “Isn’t it obvious already? Do I actually need to teach you every single thing? Do you want me to call over the writer noona so she can write you a script—”  
  
“I’m kidding!” he says, then reaches both his hands out to cup Haechan’s face and presses a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek.  
  
“WHAT’S THAT FOR?” he howls at Yangyang who’s already running for the door, scandalized.  
  
“My present for you! Thank you Donghyun!”  
  
“It’s Donghyuck!”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s dark inside Jaemin’s tent, and Yangyang would have thought that he’s already asleep if it’s not for the light that comes from his phone screen. There’s nowhere to knock, so Yangyang settles with clearing his throat loudly while hoping that Jaemin is not wearing his Airpods. Fortunately, Jaemin hears him.  
  
“What do you want?” he asks, sitting up. His voice is low and cautious, and he looks at Yangyang like he's not sure what to expect.  
  
“Can I come in?” Yangyang asks carefully. He’s fully prepared for rejection in case Jaemin turns him down, aware now that he doesn’t deserve his kindness anymore. He probably never did.  
  
"Yeah," Jaemin says, moving his backpack and pillow to make space while Yangyang toes off his shoes and climbs inside. The tent is barely large enough to accommodate two adults and a humongous elephant, but any larger would just create more distance between them. They sit down facing each other, legs crossed, hands flipping their phones back and forth, gaze everywhere but on each other.  
  
Yangyang inhales. “I had a lot of fun that day,” he begins quietly. He’s always been bad at serious conversations. Would rather turn them into something he can laugh about, or simply run away. But Jaemin doesn't deserve that. “I mean, back when we were trainees. Or I was a trainee, you weren’t. I wanted to go out but I didn't know anyone then, and you did, so you asked Jungwoo hyung to be our chaperone for me. And I never actually thanked you properly. Not only that, I actually... forgot. about everything. That you were you.”  
  
From the corners of his eyes, he can see Jaemin raising his head to look at him. He’s stopped fiddling with his phone and set it down. Yangyang licks at his lips.  
  
“And I’m sorry. For that, and for all of my shitty behaviour. Sorry for being an ass to you this whole time,” he exhales. “And sorry for not noticing how you feel. About me.”  
  
Jaemin is quiet. Holds his gaze and stays silent. Yangyang has no idea what he’s thinking, so he snaps his head up from where he was looking at the canvas floor to meet Jaemin’s eyes at last. He finds that Jaemin is looking straight at him.  
  
“You did,” Jaemin tells him after a moment. “Thank me, I mean. Jungwoo hyung didn’t know that I don’t drink dairy, and he bought us strawberry milk. When you found out, you ran back to the store and asked the lady with your limited Korean if you could switch it to a juice.”  
  
“Oh,” Yangyang says. “I don’t remember that part.”  
  
“I do, and that's why I’ve liked you ever since. I’ve liked you the entire time,” Jaemin says, which makes Yangyang’s face heat up. Then his lips pull into his usual impish smirk. “I still like you now, even when you’re an ass to me.”  
  
Yangyang’s suddenly thankful for the darkness, because otherwise Jaemin would be able to see the way he flushes tomato red. “Does this mean I can continue sabotaging you on broadcast?” he tries.  
  
“Don’t push your luck,” Jaemin replies, laughing. It sounds like every bad romcom movie Dejun likes to watch on Netflix, but it’s also melodious like a song he’d catch himself humming. Then Jaemin is quiet again. “Now that we’ve established that you don’t hate me, can I ask you a different question?”  
  
“Yeah, sure.”  
  
“Do you like me?”  
  
Yangyang’s eyes widen at the question, not expecting how direct Jaemin could be. Jaemin is neither smiling or frowning. He just waits for Yangyang, the same way he has waited all this time. Yangyang can’t make him wait any longer. “Yes,” he breathes out after mustering every bit of courage he has left.  
  
Jaemin’s face lights up in a way that can leave any writer out of words. He beams at Yangyang with a megawatt smile that Yangyang is used to seeing on screen, but never in person — and now that he has, it’s a thousand times more blinding than he ever imagined.  
  
If his life was a sitcom, this would be the part where Jaemin bursts out laughing in his face. If his life was a melodrama, this would be the perfect cue to play a dramatic love song in the background. But Yangyang’s life is his own, so there’s none of that. Instead, Jaemin’s hand finds him in the dark and his gaze drops to Yangyang’s mouth.  
  
Something starts brewing in the pit of his stomach. It’s not like this is his first time to be on the receiving end of Jaemin’s stare, but none of his stares has ever been this intense.  
  
“Can you promise not to hate me if I do this?” asks Jaemin, voice low and never more cautious.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
And that’s all it takes to put an end to his wait.  
  
Jaemin reaches up to cup Yangyang’s jaw and bites his lower lip briefly before he finally leans in. His mouth is soft when he presses it against Yangyang’s, and as Yangyang tilts his head and parts his lips, he can feel Jaemin smiling into the kiss.  
  
“Were you eating fried chicken?” Jaemin asks when he pulls back, his lips a little swollen and pink.  
  
“Yeah, with Haechan. I think he has leftovers if you want some.”  
  
Jaemin chuckles. “Nah, I’ll pass,” he says, pecking the corner of Yangyang’s mouth, then smiles. “This is better.”  
  
“For the first time, I agree with you,” Yangyang says, laughing. “You know, if you hadn’t been sending me all the wrong signals, we could be doing this a lot earlier.”  
  
“Me? If you hadn’t been such an annoying little shit—”  
  
“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”  
  
Jaemin laughs. “Yeah, I do,” he admits, then seals their lips together again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Well, isn’t this better?” Haechan says chirpily.  
  
Yangyang opens his eyes slowly and squints at the sudden brightness from outside the van. Sun is on the back of Haechan’s neck, where he’s standing at the door with Jeno who has a fond look on his face. “What is?” asks Yangyang, his brain not fully awake yet.  
  
“The two of you. Like this.”  
  
He turns his head to his left, and finds Jaemin, already awake and looking at him. “Oh,” he says, lips slowly pulled into a smile, finally registering his surroundings. “I fell asleep.”  
  
“I already took a picture and sent it to the others,” says Renjun with a grin, his head peeking out from behind Jeno.  
  
“Who are the others?” Yangyang asks, but before anyone of them can answer, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulls it out and discovers a bunch of unread messages from his WayV members. When he scrolls up, he finds the said picture, forwarded from Sicheng who probably received it from Renjun.  
  
_cute <3_, Yukhei writes, right after Dejun’s _u look ugly_.  
  
“At least you don’t need to act in front of the cameras anymore,” says Jeno. “Well, maybe you need to refrain a bit.”  
  
“And none of us have to suffer anymore. Everyone says thank you Haechan,” adds Haechan, a little smug.  
  
“Thanks Donghee,” Yangyang flashes a grin at him, all teeth.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Yangyang turns his attention to his phone screen again. In the photo, Yangyang is asleep on Jaemin’s shoulder, and Jaemin’s head is rested on top of his. He taps on the photo and clicks save, then pushes his phone back inside his pocket and turns to Jaemin again.  
  
Squeezing his hand, Jaemin leans into his space and flashes a wide smile. Yangyang smiles back all too happily.  


**Author's Note:**

> a/n: first and foremost i'd like to thank sapphy for holding my hands through all of my breakdowns and for being the best cheerleader and motivator!! this fic wouldn’t exist without you ╥﹏╥ many thanks to lisa for the endless support and putting up with my random messages at the most random hours even when you’re so busy TT also special thanks to rain (cover by doyoung).mp3 which i put on loop at least once a week for being a good writing song (friends who follow me on spotify you can stop judging me now). no thanks to ficlingo bird i understand now how terrifying it is!!  
>    
> last but not least, a million thanks to tea, the best fic fest mod ever! ♡
> 
>   
> [cc](http://curiouscat.me/neol)  
> 


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